Chapter 370 Interlude: The Knight Of The Moonlight

[...A Time Yet To Come...]

[Milligarde, The Capital City: Eldaya]

In the illustrious "Emerald Keep" of Milligarde's capital, where the King himself ruled wisely, where the people of the kingdom's hope laid upon, there was one person who kept it all afloat; the existence of one man that kept the King's enemies at bay.

A youthful knight with silken, silver hair kept short and tidy and armor of quartz that granted him the beauty of the moon itself; cascading down his shoulders was a black cape and decorating his pearlescent armor were medals of his many feats, all forged in his short, but grand tenure.

It was said that he earned his title of the "Knight of The Devouring Moonlight " due to a battle that's sung by bards all across Milligarde: on that fateful night, the moon was revealed in full, and beneath it, a Scourge of Cataclysm had stricken the capital; plentiful beasts of grand scale attacked the capital.

Yet, alone, with only his majestic sword drawn and his cape to the wind, the young knight slew each and every beast that threatened Milligarde. Since then, it's been believed that under the gaze of moonlight, he's invincible, he's–

"Sir Andris!"

Pushing through the illustrious gates of the courtyard of the Emerald Keep–a garden amidst the royal castle that remained near the clouds themselves–a panicked knight stumbled over to the young man who was sitting there in peace.

Andris stood up in concern, walking over to his colleague, "What's the matter? What's gotten you in such a panic–"

Though as Andris checked on the Milligardian knight, he found the man was dressed in wounds; his armor was covered in holes and dented as blood poured out.

The nameless knight huffed, "Invaders...Attackers have come for the King?"

"Attackers?" Andris seemed on-guard as he knelt beside the injured knight.

"...I don't know where they came from–I was standing by the interior gates, then 'he' appeared out of nowhere–Sir Andris, he's coming!...Please, protect his Majesty!" The knight warned.

–Just then, an icicle dropped down from above, plunging into the wounded man's back and stabbing straight through his body. Andris was unable to react to this, finding himself shocked at the sudden death of his fellow knight, though he stood to his feet, emitting only a single breath as he looked forward with his light-green irises.

​ "Who are you?" Andris asked.

Calm steps walked up the stairs leading to the royal garden, unanswering yet even though the silhouette of the mysterious attacker became known. Andris noticed it as he stood there on-guard with his hand ready by the handle of his sheathed sword: the corpse of the fallen knight had completely frozen over; the man's body had been encased in a layer of frost.

With a single slash of his sword, Andris cleanly cut through the entirety of the sturdy glacier, splitting it in half.

"The King you serve is unworthy. It's an empire built on a falsehood; does it not question your integrity, proud knight?" Hiver asked.

"Silence!" Andris shouted.

"Foolishness; barbarism is all that the Milligarde of today is built on," Hiver remarked.

CRUNCH

Though Andris pierced his blade through Hiver's chest, the impact felt different. Soon, the body of the mysterious invader turned into brittle frost, forming with cracks and turning completely to ice.

"I see; there was a miscalculation on my hand. Even if daylight is when you're at your weakest, Knight of the Devouring Moonlight, you're still a monster all the same..." Hiver said.

"What?..." Andris questioned.

"Still, the Emerald Keep was infiltrated by nothing more than a false body," the frosted clone of Hiver spoke, "Prepare yourself, Milligarde."

With those final words that spoke of war to come, the false invader crumbled away into ice as Andris stood there in silence.

'War is coming...What does this mean for Milligarde?' Andris thought.

–

Across the seas, far exiled from the Continent of Man in which Milligarde occupied, the land of Farmay existed in the farthest, darknest, coldest corner of the world. However, it was no longer slumbering; a colossal fleet of ships had set sail from the icy land.

On the ships built to withstand the arctic waters beyond Farmay, it wasn't human soldiers that rode upon the vessels, but golems made of wood-and-steel, standing tall in numbers surpassing tens of thousands.

"My, Marylange's army of golems is even more impressive than I had imagined."

Remarking this, the patchwork man sat in the shadows beneath the sail, smiling to himself as he adjusted the tophat sitting on his head.

"You seem excited, Shammoth."

Walking over to the patchwork man was another Viscount of Farmay; a man with a lion-faced helm, dressed in all-black armor with a fur-lined coat.

"Of course I am, Amine," Shammoth smiled, "This war is for Her Majesty–Milligarde will be hers."